Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1887-09-17

where else, and he painted on, half-uncon-
scious. 1t seemed to him all right and
beautiful he fancied that an angel guided
his hand. No one saw the picture in the
studio; people called and left kind mes
sage>, but he saw no one. He scarcely ate
or slept, but grew every day grayer, more
wasted, more altered; but he was. not 50
utterly miserable till the picture-his only
one--was sent to the Academy. Then his
work in life seemed done; he could not
paint any more he could only sit before
his easel looking with LINK, unseeing eyes
on a blank canvas, and waiting till his pic
ture should speak for him to the world
This was all that he had to look forward
to-only l chill phantom of 4 hope, but
still feebly glimmering upon the dark of
his long, lone, dreary, companionless DAYS.
lie sat in the studio motionless before the
empty canvas on the easel, thinking of the
early married years, when Mary sat and
worked there, stopping her stitching and
they still hoped for the children to make
their blithe noise in the large, quiet rooms,
when youth, and hope, and enjoyment
were their portion. He got up sometimes,
moved by he knew not what vague i'm
pulse, and wandered into the room where,
during those sad last months, which now
seemed almost bliss by comparison, she had
lain so white and patient on that couch
which was now smoothed down, and empty
like everything else.
He talked TO himself, or to her, found
himself asking questions and waiting for
answer when only silence Knocked his eur
he was terrified as if by a crime, and
thought himself growing an intdel be-
cause II seemed to him that, when he called
ON heaven, there was silence too, and only
mtenanted space all round him.
Poor Sebastian Doubt had always been
one of the sins Of the world in his ewes,
and even i'll this anguish of bereavement,
and his sense Of forsakeness, his spirit was
struggling against it with what force re-
manned to him. The servants, who liked
him--for he was kind master, though a
distant one-shook their heads over his
looks and ways; he was not himself they
said, meaning much by t. phrase, which,
indeed, was most true. te was not him
self; he had been torn under from the
main support of his life, aud the clutch Of
Giant Despair was on his heart.
4 faint CLEAN Of something like interest
in the world revisited him on the day on
which the Academy opened. He tried not
to dwell upon the remembrance of all the
other opening days when his proud, ador-
ing wife had been with him, and all the
exhibition centered to her in her particu-
lar r. AS seven or eight big pictures;
when she CLEANED all the complimentary
remarks (alas scanty enough lately made
by country folks, and women chiefly,
which she could repeat to him, and refused
to hear the scofls and rude laughter that
sometimes passed by her hero's work.
This great picture of his, his AllegOry
of Life and Death" painted, it seemed to
him, with his very hearts blood which
meant to him all that was most sacred,
tenderest, noblest in his mind, this must
touch even Il careless and depraved public,
and speak from him to them as deep calls
to deep. He took up his place near it, not
from vanity now-he had had his DAYS of
vanity and self-conceit, he had been
blinded by an ingenious, not unlovable
sort Of egotism, ever since the old da,s of
his studentship, when Hamlin abused him
for his fatal facility" and want of devir'
but he was moved now by different
spirit; il was more the longing Of human
sympathy, BY desire to force the thought
less world into an affinity with what seemed
to the man broken with grief the only
! mood worth attaining in this life of ours,
with its momentary possibilities of dis
aster and misery. He listened, with all
his soul on the stretch, with every nerve
| quiyering for this touch, with an acu;eness
| Of hearing unusual TO him, for the words
of the passers-by.
II, Io,,J 80 ,c,,. Il
paused 10 give a curious, amused, cursory
glance at this work of his supremest mo-
ments, throw it 4 light, ridiculous, frivol-
Gus remark. He heard men say, "Old
Eellowcs again Why, he must be in his
second childhood Isn't it preposterous
! to cover the walls with this sort Of stuti2"
He heard the laughing voice of girls and
boys: "Oh, goodness, what Il picture
What does il All mean? What this great
| sprawlmg creature with the green face do
ing? What are all these miscellaneous
things messing about here for2 Chains,
and money, and tlowers-like an old curl
o>ity shop. Isn't it too amusing"
Every slight, testing word stung him like
Il whip Of nettlcs. Amusing. Absurd !
His great picture, his conception of the
deepest, most tragcal realities of life and
sorrow! He started suddenly from his
| leaning position and faced wildly about on
| the assembled crowd which was moving
laughing, buzzing before him. till his dis
ordered, confused brain spun round as in a
witches dance. lie looked from side to
| side, and out OF the confusion one fact
glared clearly at him. Every one was
given up to evil tastes and pursuits This
jeering, foolish mob were led astray by the
false gods of the world. They were push
ing each other, straining to see, eager to
admire that picture there which to him at
this moment seemed inspired by Satan
himself-that picture of Cleopatra and her
women, the guileful "Serpent of Old Nile"
with her shameless, Haunting charms this,
this was the modern idol, the taste of the
art world of to-dayl He threw out his
arms wildly, and put some Of the scorching
anger that burnt in his brain into loud.
strange words He denounced the Cleo
| patra, the vile taste Of the world the sin
and the shame, which were real enough to
him in spite OF his half delirium; the half
! frightened, shrinking, half amused looks
! and whispers of the people, who fell away
out of the reach Of his swinging arms, and
stared at his haggard face and burning
| eyes, only spurred him on to louder, fiercer
denunciations, and more unsparing cpl
| thets of blame. Two men who had seen
him from distance made their way hast
lily towards him one was the painter Muir
ray the other another artist, an old friend
who owed 50 much to Sebastian's kindness
The poor old man is beside HIMSELF
he said hastily; che has been like that
since his wife died. Lets stop it, and get
him away if possible
I" If possible, before he does mischief
make haste. He is quite mad, to Judge
from his looks"
The first speaker reached him, and took
his arm with a firm but kindly grasp
speaking soothingly in his ear
My dear Mr.. Fellowes-it is hardly the
place, is it? Yen won't want to make Z
scene here-you'll come away with me
My wife will be so glad to see you"
Sebastian ceased talking suddenly, and
turned round on the speaker with dazec
and V acantstare.
"Eh? p he said, with not touch of hi.
old punctilious courtesy. I" | don't know
you or your wife-my wife is dead" ht
added, with sudden pitiful drop in hi,